


the dawn will come

by diminishedmercury



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Greek Gods at war, Lots of monsters, M/M, Natural Disasters, Porn With Plot, Top Keith (Voltron), good ending, or should i say..... unnatural natural disasters, post-apocalyptic setting, sheithlentine's 2k19, survival first binch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 14:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17899649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diminishedmercury/pseuds/diminishedmercury
Summary: It is entirely possible that all of this could have been avoided- but Gods are no better than men. Gods are only men who have been given powers to lay waste to whole countries. Gods are only men that enact themselves as judge, jury, and executioner. Rest is not known for the poor souls trapped within the confines of mortality. Great fires engulf the green skylines of the forests, stretching up to kiss the beautiful grey of ash that fills the air, storms filled with Zeus' wrath beat upon the soil and uproot crops, waves crawl out from the oceans and take away homes to the sea floor.





	the dawn will come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rose Nightshade](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rose+Nightshade).



> Happy Sheithlentine's!  
> I'm very late on my gift, but I do hope you enjoy this!  
> Between working on term papers and working, this was a bit of an ambitious fic for me to get done, but I do like how it turned out <3

It is entirely possible that all of this could have been avoided- but Gods are no better than men. Gods are only men who have been given powers to lay waste to whole countries. Gods are only men that enact themselves as judge, jury, and executioner. Rest is not known for the poor souls trapped within the confines of mortality. Great fires engulf the green skylines of the forests, stretching up to kiss the beautiful grey of ash that fills the air, storms filled with Zeus' wrath beat upon the soil and uproot crops, waves crawl out from the oceans and take away homes to the sea floor. Impossible to escape, nowhere to run. The Gods rule this Earth and men are but collateral damage in a war that will determine the future of their lives.

* * *

 

There are days where Shiro wishes that he could give up this life- he hunts, he tends to his farm, he reinforces the protections around his livestock. He does this for each place he must call home (or as close to home as it can be when he’s constantly leaving for somewhere new every few weeks). There is monotony in his life in all the ways that there is chaos. But what more could he do? He was no warrior (though, perhaps, in another life he could have been), he was no priest. Mortal life was mundane, but it was what kept him alive. His shoulders ached as he plowed his land. He wanted to save what crops he could. The storm had been unforgiving last night, as it always was these days. Rain had beaten away the soil and uprooted the barley. There would be another hungry Winter to come, he mused silently. 

His feet padded against the soft soil (soaked with rainwater and the corpses of his crops), leading him to the cobblestone of the singular road that led into the city. He wasn't keen on visiting the city most days- the cities were plagued with the scent of death and decay, ridiculed with the dangers of Worshipers. He would have to soon though. His food supply was running low and with the cold and the rain and the heat, he was not producing nearly enough to self-sustain on his own. He would have to trade some of his grain for dried meats and preservatives. Anything that would travel well.

Mundane, mundane, mundane.

The trip is uneventful (as it _almost_ always is). Hunger is everywhere he looks, there are grievous looks in the eyes of the elderly, death sitting at all doorsteps. He does not stop at the temple. The Gods do not deserve his praise and worship for the sorrow they wove into the lands.

It's easy to recall a time before the chaos and destruction, as he meanders his way back to his home (funny, to think this all started years ago now). A time when Shiro's biggest worries were those of working the fields and sowing seeds within the soil. The sun wasn't a threat, the rains were a blessing, the wheat was a grace given by Demeter- now, Shiro fears the cruel heat of the blazing Apollo, fears Zeus' bolts of lightning, fears the hunger that comes from Demeter's frown. Perhaps, Shiro could live with these things. He could learn to adapt to the unforgivable conditions. There are hats to be worn and shelter to hide in and rations to be made. He could survive until this war was over with, if the misfortune ended there. When the creatures began to ransack the plazas and the villages, doubts crept into Shiro's mind. Why was man doomed for simply living? It made little sense and the more he tried to rationalize it, the more it convinced him that Gods were not to be venerated- they were to be feared and respected. Not loved and worshiped. And still... it was so easy to love the beings that breathed life and death into his world.

Night falls.

He will have to move on from this place soon, he realizes. He’s already moved three times in the past three months. Perhaps it was four, he wasn’t entirely certain at this point. It was just too dangerous to stay in one place very long. It was harder to move along with livestock- he would have to butcher them before he could leave. Dry out the meat in the sun with salt to preserve what food he could. Maybe, in the next few days, he will have to take a few cows to slaughter to dry out the meat after all. For now, he would worry about what Nyx would bring with her tonight.

His doors were shuttered, and the moon was bloodied. Red soaked through the cracks in his windows, through the holes in the roof, through the thresholds of his doors. He listened intently for movement in the outside world, lying in the straw that made up his bed, fur draped across his body. Howls ripped into the air. They were coming. _They were coming._ No escape, no escape, no escape. Pounding at the door, snarls, hisses. These monsters were not the cleverest. He did not wish to know what was thirsting for blood to be spilled, but at least they were not harpies or minotaur.

He pulls himself up from his bed, quietly shifts to the other side of the room where he keeps his spear and shield. His hands wrap around the hilt of his spear when he hears a screech and a squelch of liquid splashing across his door. That is... not what he was expecting. The creatures he's seen scurry through his part of the surroundings are always formidable foes, even if they are not the cleverest. Harpies, cyclops, sirens- they did not tend to yell out in fear or give up before their prey has been killed (or until _they_ had been killed).

He is tired of the Gods’ playthings running amok in the night, but that will not drop his guard. He waits for the door to open on its own and presses his back to the wall beside the door. His shield is held in front of his abdomen and chest, protecting vital organs from whatever may open his door. He pushes off the wood holding it locked. The door pushes open and before Shiro even has a chance to identify what the creature is, he is rearing back his shield and slamming it down across its back. It goes down with a grunt (one too close to human, but these are Nyx’s creatures and they can mimic voices should she so please). He sees the creature roll over, a flash of violet, and then his ankles are being kicked out from underneath his body. He’s on his back, wheezing, and suddenly there is a weight on his middle and a knife at his neck.

He stares up into burning rage for just a moment, red light falling over dark hair and dark eyes from the outside world. He thinks that he will die like this, but perhaps that is not the most horrible way he could die. At least he will die by the hands of beauty rather than by the ugliness that haunts the outside world. His breath stills as the nymph (he was too beautiful to be anything else) shifts, keeping him pinned down. Maybe, this was one of those lunatics that would kill him as a sacrifice to the Gods? Somehow, Shiro wasn’t bothered at all by this thought. At least he wouldn’t have to battle the blizzards in the desert, or the monsters conjured in the night.

“… I thought it would be unoccupied.” The knife is slowly removed from his throat. Well. It makes sense, no one stays put long enough anymore to create a home. This isn’t really one either, if Shiro were being honest, but it could be. It could be…

“What happened out there?” He sees the man still above him and then he is suddenly free of the weight that had been holding him down (as easy as it would have been to simply throw him off).

“Gorgons. Lightning storms. I… can’t go back out until the storm subsides,” He sounds genuine. There is no way for Shiro to be certain. He can’t possibly know if this man is being honest or if he will just kill him in his sleep. But… he desperately wants to believe in another human being. He desperately wants to trust someone. Desperately wants to be able to talk to someone, touch someone, simply _exist_ with someone.

“The shack is big enough for us both… For a little while.” He watches as a quiet sort of hope appears in big violet eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Keith. My name is Keith.”

* * *

 

As it would turn out, staying in one place was a hell of a lot easier when you had more than one person. Of course, there were still monsters and there were still followers of the Gods, but now, there was someone else watching his back. They live in quiet isolation for months and Shiro finds that it feels as if he’s known Keith for much longer. Perhaps, in another life, Shiro has met him before.

It was hard work to tend to the fields and even harder to keep the livestock alive. The last of their animals die within a few weeks of Keith coming onto the farm, killed by the Leucrocotta that called to them in the night (Shiro sobbed silently into Keith’s arms as he listened to a little boy cry out for help, immobile only  by his will to survive). Hunting becomes Keith’s new job to provide for them while Shiro tries to sow the ground with seeds he knows will not take. Perhaps, Demeter is offended that he will not offer an obeisance to her. He does not care. If he shows favor to one of the Gods, Zeus will only strike down his crops with lightning or Poseidon may flood the fields and take them away, or Hades may open up the world and suck him into Tartarus. He doesn’t know what each day holds, but he can at least count on the Gods to be unpredictable..

They’re running out of food on month two, and Shiro is simply surprised they’ve managed to scavenge enough supplies to make it this long.

It’s a hungry night that they’re sat around the fire pit, small game cooking on the roasting rack, that Keith starts to open up to him.

“The chimaera killed my father,” Shiro feels sympathy. Many lost their family when this war began- Shiro doesn’t know if he’s lucky he didn’t have one to begin with or if he was in disfavor of the Gods from birth. “They came in the night when I was still just a boy. Probably twelve. I didn’t know what was happening. They just… burned the village.” He pauses as if he’s waiting for Shiro to say something, but Shiro is too afraid to speak. He doesn’t want to break this spell that has caused Keith to speak about himself. “My father was always _too_ good of a man. He tried to help put out the fires. He died trying to pull a woman and her child out of their home. I think they lived at least.”

Shiro still doesn’t know what to say. He couldn’t imagine losing his family to a war that didn’t even belong to them. He cautiously reaches over and takes Keith’s hand into his own. “He sounds amazing,” He can’t say he’s sorry. He can’t trivialize his pain. He knows pain all too well.

There’s a look of surprise there, but he doesn’t get pushed away. He thinks that’s a good thing. Probably. He gets his answer in the form of a small smile, just the smallest lift of the corners of his lips, but he still thinks it’s lovely. “Yea. He was.” They don’t talk about it for the rest of that night, but there’s suddenly a weight lifted from between them that Shiro had hardly noticed was there before.

He starts to see Keith smile more often after that night and in turn, Shiro shares more about himself (and maybe, just maybe, it’s the start of something beautiful in an ugly world).

The chimaera of Keith’s nightmares come late in the night, the moon bloodied red once again. They breathe fire and havoc in their path, and they are forced to flee. Keith doesn’t cry, but Shiro does shed a few tears for the one place he’s been able to call “home” since the start of this was.

* * *

 Once they are far enough into the forest to remain safe, they take a moment to process the destruction.

“It’s okay,” Keith says, “I know a place we can seek refuge.”

“Where?” Shiro doesn’t say aloud that he has his doubts, but anywhere is better than here. “How do you know?”

“East of here. Past the desert. It will be at least a week of travel by foot, but… I heard about it before I met you. That was where I was going,” Shiro takes a moment to process the implications of that. He suddenly thinks that maybe, he isn’t the only one growing attached far too quickly. They set out for this paradise once dawn breaks. Shiro can only hope that what they will find isn’t more of the creatures that plague their sleep.

* * *

 They’re running now, gusts of wind filling his ears and snow blinding their path. He doesn’t know where to go, can only tell where Keith is by the rope tied to his belt. Sand sinks beneath his feet as he searches for a place to rest, but there is _nothing_ and he can’t see and-

“Shiro!” He stops, his head turning side to side, trying to find Keith’s form through this snow, but he just _can’t tell_ where he’s at. He stumbles in the direction of the rope, holding it tightly with his hands and tries to pull himself towards the direction he hopes that Keith is in.

“Please, please, please,” He whispers, the roaring wind swallowing his voice. They’ll both freeze to death if they can’t find shelter soon and there is no way that Shiro is leaving behind Keith, the only person on this Earth he can trust and love. He hears his name again. He’s nearing the end of the rope. The rope ends and Keith is nowhere to be found. “No! No, no, no!”

“Shiro!” He hears his voice again and whips around to face the direction. This is how he will go insane, he decides, trapped in ice and sand, cacti frozen around him, Keith lost to this frozen realm. He pushes forwards, following the voice. It’s getting closer and closer the further he drags his feet and he can feel himself getting light headed from the cold, can see black spots at the edge of his vision. His body is shutting down, trying to find warmth in a place there is none any longer.

“Shi-“ He hears “-ro.” A clearing. A clearing in the snow! He rushes forward and falls from the dramatic cut of snow to sand and heat, burning his skin on the hot surface. There is a circle cut out in the sky, the true desert’s body on display here. But… where was Keith? He didn’t understand. He heard him. _He heard him._ A laugh and he’s scrambling to his feet.

The Leucrocotta. His blood runs cold as he stares into the maw of the beast, its hooves kicking up dust from the sand bellow. He doesn’t know what God has sent it here to kill him, but he’ll be damned to Tartarus if he goes down without a fight. He reaches to his back, hand wrapped around the hilt of his spear- it is on him in a single instant, maw open and ready to devour him. Its teeth bear down onto the metal of the shaft of the spear and push him backwards, towards the blizzard once again. He needs to find Keith- he doesn’t know if this thing killed him or hurt him or-

The Leucrocotta once again bears down on the metal of his weapon, snapping it as if it were made of wood. He leaps to the side to avoid spilling his own blood, holding on to the two halves of his spear. He swings out with the piece that still holds the blade, stabbing it into the creature’s left flank. It howls in pain, but doesn’t slow down, slamming him into the hot earth below him and snapping at his face. Its claws are digging into the arm he’s using to keep the animal at bay as his other searches for the weapon he’d dropped on his way down.

“Shirooooo,” The creature breathes, still Keith’s voice, and he wants to sob as his hand grasps the metal of his split spear and jams into the side of its neck. It screams in pain and it sounds like Keith and- he’s distracted for too long and he feels teeth sink into his shoulder, tearing into the flesh and ripping through bone. He’s going to die here, he thinks. He’s going to bleed out surrounded by hot sand and blizzard snows.

“ ** _Shiro!_** ” His vision is blurring, blacking out at the edges for real this time, but the last thing he sees before all goes still is Keith’s body rushing out of the snow and bringing down his sword on the creature’s back.

Body quivering, he awakens slowly. Pain shoots up his right arm, flaring out from his shoulder and downwards. He tries to move it and panic drowns his body quickly when nothing happens. “Wha-“ He tries to sit up, but still, he can’t move his arm. He feels two arms wrap around his middle and pull him up, resting the weight of his body against a warm side.

“I’m so sorry,” Keith. _Keith_. **_Keith_**. He’s alive, safe, alright. Relief floods his body almost immediately after the panic and it’s almost sudden enough to make him dizzy with emotion. He doesn’t know what Keith is apologizing for, all he knows is that he’s so grateful that he’s alive. “I-I had to or you’d die from the infection, I just-“ He doesn’t hear the rest. His arm. That’s why he can’t feel it. It’s gone.

“I don’t care,” His tone is quiet, forgiving.

“Shiro, I _love_ you.” Keith is crying (Shiro doesn’t remember ever seeing Keith cry) and all Shiro wants to do is make him smile, make him realize that it doesn’t _matter_ what he had to do, because Shiro loves him too and he will always love him.

He doesn’t have to say anything when he pulls Keith’s face to his own and kisses him with all of the passion he’s been holding in since he met this man. He knows that Keith will understand, knows that he responds best to actions anyways.  They will have to carry on in the morning. They aren’t far now. They can be there by noon tomorrow and Shiro can’t wait to finally be safe.

* * *

Breath filled his lungs in large gulps of air. They were alive, they were safe. He clung to Keith with a quiet sort of desperation, blood and dirt stuck to his cheeks and legs, staring around him in wonder. Keith had been right- there truly had been a refuge waiting for them. It suddenly all felt worth it. They had been traveling by foot for what felt like millennia, battling creatures and storms alike. And here they were in a verified paradise.

"You are safe here," There was no way to describe her other than divine. Allura, they had found out her name to be, was a sorceress who had once been loyal to Hecate.

When the gods broke out into war, Allura had decided to use her knowledge to protect the mortal life on Earth. "Follow me to our healer," She smiled with kindness and Shiro couldn't help but to feel reassured despite all the times they had been tricked upon their journey. It was easiest to believe that everyone and everything was looking to kill you in this world- but he was tired of living this way. He was ready to trust someone. At least this once. He and Keith had been isolated for so long.

Keith, cautious as always, kept an arm around his waist, holding him steadfast. He was glad for it. He was afraid he may fall with how beaten and abused his body was by now. Balance was not something he was used to without his other arm (and _Gods_ the pain was still there, but they were _safe,_ and they had _survived_ ).

They followed Allura through her encampment. Overhead lie a shield of great magic- Shiro couldn't begin to imagine how much strength it must have taken to create it. Outside, the rain and the lightning struck the shield, glowing purples bouncing off it in all directions- but the ground remained dry and the lightning never struck. The sun shone brightly, but it was not natural lighting. It couldn't have been. It was warm and comforting. Apollo's rays were harsh and vindictive- but these were nourishing.

It's almost ridiculous how comforting that it is to know that they are finally free. To know that they don’t have to struggle simply to live. Allura leads them to their room and bids them a good night. She knows that they must rest now. Shiro is ever grateful for her generosity before crawling into bed and falling asleep, one arm less and hair pure as snow.

* * *

 "How are you feeling?" He’s groggy and just sitting up on the bed when he feels arms encircle his waist and a cheek rest on his back. His hand comes up to cover one of Keith's, entangling their fingers together.

"I'm fine, love," He sighed, a soft contentment falling over his soul that hadn't been there since before the war began. He was bruised and battered, but he was fine. So long as he had Keith, he would always be okay. He’d decided on that all that time ago on their farm before everything burned down. He laughs quietly when he feels lips press to his neck, almost giggling as Keith kissed a path up to his jaw and down to the corner of his lips. “I love you,” He murmurs, untangling his hand from Keith’s to gently tangle it in dark locks, pulling him into a real kiss. He feels the vibrations of Keith’s groans in the kiss and can’t help but to smile when he hears the breathed out, breathless ‘I love you’ whispered back between desperate kisses.

Hands move to sneak underneath the thin shirt he has on; they leave goosebumps in their path. He’s not sure which one of them moves, but suddenly he’s sitting in Keith’s lap, hand still tangled in his long hair, a tongue in his mouth and saliva dripping down his chin. It’s wet and sloppy and so, _so_ good after all of this time spent running and worrying about the next day. He’s pushing his hips down against Keith’s as they grind up to meet him, hard lengths pushing and rubbing and utterly shameful sounds are pushing up from beneath his breast. “Off,” He demands, pulling away from Keith’s lips to tug at the bottom of his shirt. “Want you naked,” He explains and soon enough they’re both stripped of any clothing and he’s pressing Keith down into the soft furs that line their bed.

He’s kissing a path down this beautiful man’s body, laying a healing touch over old and new scars, kissing away bruises. And then, he’s sucking new bruises into soft inner thighs, a hand pumping entirely too slowly on Keith’s cock as a tease. The way Keith wraps his thighs around his head is oh so good and the way he’s practically growling at him to get on with it has him whimpering and scrambling to obey. He’s stuffing his throat full of warm flesh soon after, humming and sucking as he looks up to watch Keith’s face.

“So pretty, baby,” He whimpers around the cock in his mouth at the pet name, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he feels a hand cup his cheek and rub a thumb softly against his cheekbone. He pulls back so he can lick a broad strip from his balls to his tip, suckling at the sensitive skin on his shaft, before he takes the length into his throat again, nose pressed up against soft hair at Keith’s pelvis. A hand winds into his hair tightly, pulling harshly when he swallows. “ _Fu_ -ck!” He wants to see if he can make him cum just by using his mouth, but he needs Keith to be inside more than that right now. Needs tangible proof that they’re _alive_ and _safe_ enough to be doing something like this.

“Need you to fuck me, Keith,” He rasps as he pulls off of his lover, looking up at him from under long lashes.

“Fuck yes.”

He’s pulled up into another kiss filled with searing heat and wet noises before being flipped over onto his belly. “Stay here,” He hears Keith murmur into his ear before he feels his weight remove itself from the bed. He almost whines at the loss but stays still, curious about what Keith could possibly need to go do. He nearly jumps off the bed when he feels cool fingers brush against his ass, salve leaving a cool path on his skin (and, yea, that makes sense, he’s fine with Keith leaving him momentarily now).

They don’t waste much time with preparation, both too keyed up and desperate to feel the other to take more time than is necessary. Shiro is practically sobbing Keith’s name around the fingers inside of him by the time he’s removing the three he’s got stuffed inside his hole.

“Up,” Keith growls, pulling his hips up into the air. He spreads his legs and presses his face down into the furs, turning his head sideways to look back at Keith as he pushes inside once he has him how he wants him. The first push inside is intense (and Shiro thinks it always will be). It has him panting and groaning, thrusting his hips back to help Keith bottom out faster.

“Fuck me, baby, please, please, plea-“ He’s cut off by his own moan when he feels the first rough slam into his body, pushing him further up the bed. It isn’t going to last long, Shiro realizes, already so close to coming and hardly touched at all tonight. It doesn’t matter; they now have this night and every night after it. There are tears in his eyes, his mouth dropped open into a permanent “O”. His heart may burst, he thinks, it hurts so much with this amount of love. Keith’s thrusts slow as he drapes his body over Shiro’s, peppering kisses across his shoulder blades, murmuring sweet nothing all the while.

Before he even realizes it, Keith has his cock in his hand and pumps once, twice, three times and he’s spilling white onto his stomach and the rough callouses of a warm hand. He clenches tightly around Keith and suddenly he’s filled with liquid heat deep in his belly as Keith leaves his seed deep inside of him.

“We’re okay,” He hears Keith’s voice whisper to him as he’s laid down onto his belly, a warm chest pressed into his back. The tears spill over then and he’s smiling.

“Yea…” He breathes, “We’re okay.”

* * *

 The war ends within another two years. Order rules over Chaos, but at what price? Atlas has lost an arm, cut off by the mighty Ares before he is slain by his sister Athena. The balance of the world has permanently been shifted, but humans have never been known to remain on their knees in the face of adversity. They learn and they grow, they build more sanctuaries like Allura’s.

The deserts may be filled with ice and snow and patches of scorching heat, the fields may be marshes, and the world may be tipped, but humans continue to live on.

And Hera, now that she rules Queen over her husband? Well. She may have doomed him to live among the mortals he caused so much pain.


End file.
